


Impatience

by KennyCosgrove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Other, Real!Dick Roman!AU, TW: Suicide, tw: attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KennyCosgrove/pseuds/KennyCosgrove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick thinks Death is a liar, and he's waited for an age to prove him wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impatience

**Author's Note:**

> Just some AU with Real-Not-Leviathan-Dick-Roman and Death.

He counted the days and counted the years and he could only stop at five. It seemed a monotony and endless and chaotic and he could bear it no longer. He was granted the company of another that didn’t succumb to his fame, to his ignorance, to his blindness. The world, and everything in it, and everything it held to offer, was so significant as compared to everything to which he knew. Everything that Dick withheld unto himself was so small, so minute as compared to anything and everything else that was around him, nothing to which he could obtain, that he could touch, and he could feel it falling against him. 

The forces of which he did not feel anything toward, to which he felt we beyond his comprehension, to which he paid no mind to had now come full circle and he realized he could not have it. He could not obtain this, he would never hold it to his chest, claim it as his, aching and begging for more as he would strive farther against the current, hoping to find shore.

I’ll return, he told him- five years, three months and twelve days he had told him he would return. I do not know when I will return, but to you, I will return. He never believed him, he never truly believed he was Death incarnate; Thanatos, the Greeks called him, and yet a simple name to which Dick had referred him. “Death”, or “Arthur”, “Thanatos”, a goddamned hallucination he may as well have been, he had been gone, gone for so long to which Dick did not understand. What infuriated him further was the fact that he plagued him often, he plagued him constantly- and yet here he was. He did not fight to see him- he would sit alone at home, drunk, high, his pride bursting from the seams as the call girls (sometimes boys) would run, clamoring out of his house as he would scream, storming his way down the stairs to yell at the ceiling, yell at nothing, hoping under some delusion that that would bring him back to him. But why, he wondered. Why bother? What purpose, what significance did he harbor? Why should he care? He was content with his loneliness to which it was what he knew he would always have, when it all came down to nothing. He would have himself, it was all he needed.

Then why all the fuss? What reason was there? The support beams to which held this empty home together were sturdy enough to hold the support beams of the walls, they could hold him. He savored the sensation of pulling the plaster and the ceiling apart with his hands and a kitchen knife, when it clattered against the floor he could swear it echoed against the walls.

Black electrical tape and an orange extension cord would test the true existence of Death, that if he were to truly return, he would find him here, he would take him to Hell, he would take him wherever he was destined, just as long as he could prove if he was lying. If he even thought for a moment that he was lying, why bother in the first place? Brandy washed against his throat, the tumbler slammed against the hard wood of the table he stood upon as if it were a calling. 

Dick debated screaming again, yelling and cursing obscenities of the absent being - it was strange, the one thing he felt that was like anything and everything else in his life, leaving, and yet, this would be the only one he would not let slip from his hands so easily. He would know, one way or another, Death or not, he would know to what extent he had been brought to. For what reason of his breach of his own walls toward the edge of the line that he would step across, he did not know. Compelled, perhaps, sick of the monotony, they would say. Drunk, they would say. High, depressed, angry, with his pleasant guise they wouldn’t suspect a thing. What a poor soul, they would say, he must have some demons locked away. Anything was better than what was said about him now. The cord laced around his neck he watched his bare toes on the table a moment, the beam above him creaking a bit before the walls shook, rattling china and silverware and breaking glass from somewhere inevitably; he froze, all of a sudden very cold. 

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” What timing, he thought. Strange, what an entrance. He didn’t motion to move, before the cord gave in (he tied it so tightly, there was no way it could simply slip like this) and Dick was sent tumbling to the floor. He hissed, blinking before a dark figure stood before him looking all but pleased. “This is your answer to beckoning my return? I’m ashamed at your lack of patience.” he knelt, watching him curiously, as if he were some creature he had never seen before. “You’re very tired, Dick.” he whispered. Death knew, of course he knew. “I wasn’t lying, if that’s what you were implying.”

“You just let me live in an ignorant thought otherwise?”

“You chose that thought, I was honest from the start.”

A moment passed before Dick sat up, cross legged, pulling the extension cord from his neck and tossing it away from him. “So you just came here knowing I was on my way out?”

“You think me that fickle?” Death laughed. “I said I didn’t know when, but I didn’t think you would be brought to such an extent. You’ll have to pardon my guilt.” he spoke softly, Dick looking up to him. He shook his head, smiling softly. 

“I’m tired.” Dick whispered.

“I know.” He didn’t hesitate a response, it was soft. Five years, three months, and twelve days he waited, and yet he felt truly the fool, as for Death, when Dick would truly be brought to an end, he would have eternity.


End file.
